Priceless
by G.M.Portraepic
Summary: 1735: Niklaus Mikaelson – a procurer of hard-to-find objects, is tasked with kidnapping the daughter of nobleman William Forbes, and delivering her to a ruthless pirate captain in the West Indies for ransom. Risking a harrowing, unthinkable consequence for his failure – Klaus is inevitably drawn in by his hostage and the mystery that surrounds her. AU/AH. Klaroline. COMING SOON.
1. Prologue

**This is the next big project, now that _Ubiquitous_ is drawing to a close (and the sequel won't be for a little while). Loosely inspired by POTC, Black Sails – but not strictly a Pirate AU. Have at it, loves!**

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries, The Originals nor any of its names/characters/places previously established. They belong to WB Television, The CW, respective creative minds. The rest belongs to, and is copyrighted to me. I write for my own pleasure and enjoyment, not for monetary gain – G.M. Portraepic ©, 2014.

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**PRICELESS**

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**Prologue**

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She'd believed, once.

Not in stories, but in _goodness_.

Growing up in a world corrupt with piracy, bloodshed and fear had taught her to abandon such hopes. 'Hope' wasn't enduring; it was a weakness in the bold world she existed within. As a child, prior to sailing out to the Caribbean, she'd intuited that _good _people were rewarded, and delivered from evil.

But the world – the _real _world was a far harsher place than her sheltered life had led on.

_Survival_ depended on wit, intuition and a strong character.

Not _goodness; _no one possessed the trait anymore – not even she; the jewel of her parents; a true beauty of the Indies, sought after by any respectable (_and wanted by any non-respectable_) man. She could not have anticipated what providence thrust upon her – and even _she _could not have foreseen how the absolute extreme would determine her response to that harsh world.

No longer was she the naive, porcelain doll. No longer was she trusting and courteous girl of rank. It had forever changed her; she was hard and damaged – the fiery, clever young woman she'd grown into, was a far cry from the girl she'd once been. Her own moral compass no longer pointed due north; the ruthlessness and astuteness she'd adopted made her own reflection unrecognisable.

'_Goodness_' allowed for absolution – and she'd lost hers. She'd accepted that it could not be reclaimed; that she was forever corrupt; that she was damned; that there was no hope for her.

But as he arched against her body, lips grazing her ear with caressing whispers of passion and love – as he drew back, pressing his palm against her mouth to stifle her cry, she'd stared into the blue intensity of her captor's gaze, and somehow...she'd _seen _it; in _him_.

In a tortured soul.


	2. I

**A/N: ****This story is set at the end of the Golden Age of Piracy (so, chronologically after Black Sails and before POTC). Similar to POTC, not everything will be historically correct; that's not what I want this to be about (though I will do my best to get things right). TVD/TO characters will be littered throughout, I'm sure you'll pick them! **Nothing to forewarn in this chapter – but there will obviously be the odd dash of profanity; hence, this story is rated M (but mainly for future chapters). Enjoy!

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**I.**

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"You're punching above your weight, boy; the payment stands at twenty-shillings. Take it or leave it–"

"Out initial deal was _fifty_ shillings; _fifty _shillings for locating and acquiring the painting; the cost to obtain it must be compensated." Niklaus Mikaelson set his palm down on the table, swallowing the building fury and fear that threatened to corrupt his composure. "Agree, and lets both get what we want, and be on our merry way. Refuse, and I–"

"What, alert the authorities? And let _them _imprison you?" The man chortled spitefully. "_Take the deal, _boy. You're desperate enough; it is money you can't afford to lose."

Begrudgingly, Klaus had to agree with him; it wasn't a simple matter – he couldn't pawn the painting off and take the bounty; someone would recognise the work. He couldn't report the man; _his own_ profession itself was of questionable legality. He needed to take the money.

"Thirty shillings," he bartered, tone hard.

His customer withdrew a wad of notes, and set them down. "Twenty, and that's final."

Klaus grit his teeth – deliberating a long moment. He _needed _that money; he needed it for the information, and for passage. He couldn't afford to wind up in jail because he'd refused an outrageously diminished payment.

Swallowing once more, he reached forward – and his fingers curled around the roll of cash.

The middle-aged man offered a tight smile, reaching for the small, protected canvas by their feet. "Pleasure doing business with you." With subtle a tip of his wig, the gentleman stood with his prize, and departed – ghosted by two men Klaus surmised to have been reinforcements, should anything have gone wrong.

Not that Klaus blamed the man for _that _precaution; _he, _Niklaus, was man of a reputation, and tonight his customer had requested meeting in a tavern, in sight of the naked eye. He was on the end of his tether, and he _was _desperate; that evening, had the gentleman been unaccompanied; had Klaus been alone with him during the exchange – there was no telling what lengths he may have gone to.

"Penny for you thoughts?" Broke in a light, but careful voice – a familiar voice. A female.

Klaus lifted his head – unaware that he'd let it drop in the first place. "Have you _got _a penny?"

He knew the woman well; Sage. She was beautiful; rich red hair, light-blue eyes, a dimpled smile, lean, well rounded body – and was (_or _had_ been, rather) _his older brother's lover. When _it _had happened, she, along with another's sibling's love, and _he _himself had been left behind. The only three people in the universe that knew just _what _had happened. The only three people that understood each other's peril. That could talk about it.

"No, but I will shout you a drink." She reached into her skirt, and withdrew a rum bottle from a pouch. She handed it to him. "I take it from the tail-end I caught of _that..._another dodgy deal?"

"_Dodgy? _They're all fucking crooks."

"So are you."

His eyes shot to hers in lethal warning.

But she raised her palms in defence. "Your profession, not mine."

"Not by choice."

"Isn't it?"

He didn't respond; though circumstance had pushed him into the life and person he was, he hadn't been _forced; _there were always _other _ways. He just hadn't taken them.

"Do you have enough money to cross? To pay him?" Sage tried instead, as he took a swig.

"Not nearly enough," Klaus responded in a voice so low, it could have been mistaken for a growl. "At this stage, I'll arrive to find corpses."

Sage's face pinched and paled. A heavy, depressed silence settled between them, until she broke it – impulsively reaching out, and taking his hand. "You won't." She cast a look about them – checking – before commanding his attention with her eyes, and leaning forward, inclining for him to do the same. "Klaus...I hear a lot of talk; I see a lot of people that come into this tavern: I keep my ear open for you." She took a moment to exhale – whether for effect or to gather courage, he didn't know. "There's someone that can help you across; he approached me earlier; I don't know how or why he knew about it, but he did."

Klaus ripped his hand from hers, eyes wild. "You told–"

"No, I didn't!" Sage swore. "_He _approached me. He wanted to see you in person."

Klaus slumped back against his chair, skeptical. "And what's the price?"

"I guess you'll have to find out for yourself. He's lodging in room five upstairs – but only for one more night."

Klaus paused, raking his bottom lip through his teeth. "Is _this_ why you came to see me?"

She nodded, eyes darting back to the bar, where her fellow barmaid avoided the groping hands of tipsy village-men. "I had to see you before you took off again; it can't wait; he leaves for port in the morning."

"Port?"

"Business. He didn't specify, I didn't ask." The girl she worked with waved her over urgently. Sage stood. "I have to get back to work. But go and see him; tell me what he says."

"And why should I, in any way – feel obligated to do that?" Klaus challenged, though his tone was flat.

"Because I lost them too," she responded softly; watching as his defence lowered for a split second, and softened, wounded. Her eyes drifted to the rum bottle in his hands. "Keep it." With that, she pushed her way through the mesh of hot bodies toward the bar.

Klaus looked after her, bringing the bottle to his lips.

– **P –**

Within the next half an hour, he found himself standing before the said door. He couldn't quite fathom why – but after rapping his knuckles on the hardwood, a sickening twist pulled at his stomach.

His profession had led him to do things that he later regretted, but _this _was of a different magnitude entirely: a feeling of trepidation had his brow beading, and his fingers curling into his hot palms. After all, he hadn't encountered a pirate captain since–

"Just a lad," called a voluptuous, tanned brunette woman, upon drawing the door open. Naked beneath her untied silken robe, she stood proudly before him – commanding his attention.

It worked. Klaus was shaken from his distraction, and cleared his throat.

The captain was entertaining. Fantastic; he'd be in a short mood, no doubt eager to return to his paid company; Klaus knew he would have to be careful and concise with his choice words.

When the wench's eyes came back to survey him however, they narrowed. "Its _the _lad."

"Let him in." A low, Scottish lilt.

The woman moved to the opposite side of the room, pouring herself a glass of wine – and Klaus stepped inside.

The pirate captain slid from his bed, and reached for his pair of leather trousers. Tugging them on, he looked to Klaus. "Wine?" He was broad – the build of a warrior; well-muscled, olive skin, dark hair, dark eyes – and a cover of scruff on his attractive, structured face.

_Many a woman would have broken their heart over such a man_, Klaus internally conceded. If only he were so lucky himself.

Though he had absolutely _no_ trouble with women, they didn't fall 'in love' with him; they fell in _lust_ with him. He'd never been seen for anything more than a lean, well-muscled 'specimen'; a great fuck. _N__ever _a husband, and never anyone's 'love'; not since _her. _And ever since, he hadn't want it; perhaps, years ago, when he had been a dreamer – he just had to keep assuring himself that it wasn't loneliness rearing its head; that he wasn't craving the love of a woman; that he wasn't craving some similitude of peace, and a life outside thievery, anger, fear and complications.

Dismissing his thoughts, Klaus hastily motioned to his coat, where the bottle of rum protruded. "Thanks, all the same."

The captain grunted, barely bothering to lace his trousers – and came forward, arm outstretched. "Captain Alexander Reed, of _The_ _Rogue." _

Klaus clasped the man's hand – but hesitated before responding, "Niklaus Mikaelson..._ordinary citizen_."

Reed released his hand, chuckling. "You're far from ordinary, friend. I am well aware of your...talents; that's why I called you here."

"To commission me?"

"Yes."

"And what is the object you want me to procure?"

Reed pulled up a dining chair and sank into it, crossing his legs on the table. "Sit."

Klaus complied.

"I understand your current predicament; I also understand that you seek passage to _solve _the said issue," Reed revealed, taking a sip of his beverage. "It just so happens that Captain _you _owe to, _I _do as well; and he and I have come to a negotiation."

Klaus stiffened in his seat. "Under what terms?"

"_My _side of the deal, included finding you – employing you, telling you what information I could, and finding a means of passage for you. _Your side?_ If you can procure this...'item', and deliver it to the Captain, your debt is cleared; your family goes free," Reed declared. "If you fail..." he trailed off for effect. "Use your imagination; God save the souls of your brothers – but I'm sure that pretty little sis' of yours will go through _both _crews before she's–"

Klaus went to lurch across the table, but Reed raised a hand. "Try anything now, and they face such a fate before you can do anything to save them; understand?"

Klaus lowered back into his seat in submission. "What do you task me with?" He asked through his teeth.

"It is not an _object, _as such." Reed lifted his glass to his lips. "A _person_." He took a mouthful, swallowed. "To be more specific; a _woman._"

"A woman, Captain Reed?" Klaus frowned.

"You've the liberty of addressing me as Reed; I'm not your _captain_, mate. But yes – a _woman._"

"Quite a woman, if she's enough to clear the debt," Klaus mused.

"Indeed; an absolute beauty – a true jewel of the Caribbean, brought up kindly and properly – wanted by every man of worth or not. She's got a good heart – but don't be fooled; she's strong-willed and has a sharp tongue on her; a clever lass,_" _he chuckled. "She'd make for a lethal pirate."

"You seem acquainted with her," Klaus observed.

"I've seen her _once, _and heard of her a thousand times," Reed responded. "She's a siren, to be sure; it's not doubt the Captain wants her."

"Are you sure I'm not procuring her for _you_?" Klaus smirked – but quickly realised it wasn't his place to make such remarks.

He was blessed with Reed's good temper.

"I may very well have my turn with her when the Captain is done," he responded, chuckling. "But not even I know what he wants her for; only that the price for finding her proportionates your family's freedom. This is a great mercy to you; do _not _make the mistake of taking it for granted."

Pressing his lips together, Klaus nodded. "So who is she?"

Reed grinned. "Lady Caroline Forbes; her mother is of nobel blood, her father married into it; _his _family made their fortune through military and trade in the West Indies. When she was a wee little girl, her parents moved from England to overtake the father's family affairs. She's ever since lived there, and acclimated a most impressive dowry – her father looks to only increase it. She's come back to England for a marriage – to a Duke; a _Lockwood_, if I remember correctly," Reed disclosed, draining his drink and waving his woman over before continuing, "the Lockwood family are filthy rich; between the two families, the ransom would be incredible; that is what I assume the Captain is after, but he didn't specify; I thus assume he has other plans for her, of which I'm not privy to."

"So the Captain has assigned me to 'procure' this Forbes girl – to _abduct _her from the house of her betrothed, before they marry?"

"Aye."

"And where shall I bring her to?"

"Why New Providence, of course."

"But how shall I get her there?"

Reed nodded to his woman – who fetched a leather pouch, and set it down before Klaus. "Fifty shillings, coupled with what you have saved will grant you smuggler's passage on a merchant's ship; I've arranged the _which _for you; a company by the name of Salvatore; they specialise in pawning off stolen goods from our colony, in addition to _legal _trade. You have 'till nightfall tomorrow to capture her, and get her to the docks, or the ship leaves without you – and you find your own way. _Which, _mind you, _won't _be possible; you won't be able to secure safe passage with anyone else – and her people will have found and arrested you by then."

Klaus frowned. "Why couldn't I seek passage with you?"

"My ship is harboured in a private bay for obvious reasons; I leave for it at dawn. There's urgent trade business to attend to, hence I cannot stay–"

"The Persian trade-ship," Klaus intercepted, quickly covering; "there have been whispers in the tavern of its plentiful cargo for weeks now; I assume it has finally set sail?"

Narrowing his eyes, Reed nodded. "You make it your business to remain well informed."

"My choice employment demands it," Klaus answered.

"Fair enough," Reed responded, standing. "Anyways, _relevantly_: you're in luck; the girl has a lodging in town at 'The Crown' until her marriage; you'll find her there. _Not _at the home of her betrothed – which works far better for you;...less guards."

Klaus stood also, reaching out, and shaking the man's hand. "I can and will do it, Reed. My thanks to you for seeking me out." He made for the door – but his hand paused on the knob when the pirate called out to him.

"Oh, and Mikaelson?"

He turned the slightest. "Yes?"

"No sympathies for the girl's plight; the Captain wants her, and you know very well what will happen if you don't deliver her," Reed warned. "Or, alternatively – so much as touch her yourself, and you'll answer to his wrath too, understood? She's not yours."

"Noted, Sir," Klaus responded surely. "I wouldn't put my family at stake for any stranger; you mistake me for someone with a moral compass."

"Good to know," Reed chuckled. "You'd make quite the pirate; if you would ever give up your profession, I should like to make use of your talents. We are treasure hunters after all – and _you _have a knack for uncovering such things."

"Is that an offer of position on your ship, Sir?"

"Only if you want it to be."

Klaus paused, nodding. "Perhaps one day." He rolled his shoulders, returning to the point of relevance. "She's but a simple girl, Sir, and my mission; you can count on me to deliver."

Reed's face fell – dark, and threateningly serious. "She's anything _but _simple; never forget that."

Klaus nodded once, and took his leave.

Walking down the dim hall to the descending stairway – Reed's final words wrestled in his mind. He couldn't suppress the brief, cold shudder that erupted through his body at the thought of the girl, and her unfortunate fate (though he claimed indifference – she was no doubt the same age as his own sister). He soon shook himself out of doubt, however: a weak person she may not be, but an _assignment_ she _was_; and he, a man reputed for never failing on a deal, could – and _would _deliver. There was absolutely no reason for any impediment or obstruction of any kind.

Nothing would stand between him, and his family.


End file.
